


Linger

by Cowboy_Sneep_Dip



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkwardness, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Undressing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip/pseuds/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip
Summary: Annette takes good care of her injured battle partner. Ingrid wants to return the favor.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Linger

“You need to be more careful.”

“I know, I know,” Ingrid says, tilting her head back and allowing Annette to wipe a wet cloth across her cheek.

The cloth turns a murky pink as Annette scrubs the dried blood from Ingrid’s weary face. Somber worry creases her brow as she tilts Ingrid’s head back further, brushing her tangled bangs from her eyes. 

“That looks like it hurts,” Annette remarks quietly as she gently dabs the cloth along Ingrid’s eye. Dried blood trickles in cracks down the side of Ingrid’s face, stemming from her forehead. “If you don’t take it easy, the wound will open up again.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ingrid says, her voice flat. 

Annette finishes cleaning Ingrid’s face before redressing the wound on her forehead, pressing gauze into it and wrapping a bandage around, weaving it like a halo through her blonde hair, where Ingrid’s braid usually sits. “There,” she says. “How’s your arm feeling?” 

“A bit stiff,” Ingrid says, holding out her arm for Annette to peel the wrappings from. 

The infirmary is full - it always is, these days - so Ingrid gets her checkup done in her own room. Rain patters against the wooden roof of the dorm, and outside the window, it’s dark and windy. Annette sits on a stool in front of Ingrid’s bed and unwraps her arm. Ingrid winces and lets out a short grunt as the support is taken away. Her joints ache. 

“Sorry,” Annette says again. “Did that hurt?”

“It’s okay,” Ingrid leans back, her good arm propping her up. “It’s just a sprain. Nothing I can’t handle.” She cracks a smile, and Annette smiles back.

“I know you can,” Annette says. “But you were barely on your feet not two days ago. You need to take better care of yourself.” She gingerly holds Ingrid’s arm, lifting her stiff hand to her lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I can’t always be here to watch out for you.”

“A pity,” Ingrid’s grin softens into something kinder, playfulness melting into affection. She gently pulls her hand from Annette’s mouth. “Let’s finish the wrappings first, maybe.”

Annette reaches to her pile of supplies sitting next to Ingrid on the bed and picks up a tangled length of compression bandages - special-ordered from Faerghus. “Let me know if it’s too tight, okay?” 

“Will do.”

The rain intensifies, harder against the roof and the windows, tapping a rhythm with a thousand tiny fingers. The stables would be a mess of mud and hay in the mornings, and Ingrid doesn’t envy the riders who aren’t on bedrest. For her, there is dry warmth now, and the promise of a cool, quiet morning. Breakfast, maybe. 

Annette, maybe.

“Ah,” Ingrid winces.

“Sorry, too tight?”

“No, that’s good,” Ingrid says, nodding. “Thank you.” She pulls her arm back, tentatively checking the motion of her joints. Stiff and aching, but the bandages prevent her from moving it far enough for the sharp, searing pain. She watches Annette’s face, her bright, kind eyes as she finishes Ingrid’s arm and sits up, exhaling. 

“What?” she asks, noticing Ingrid’s gaze.

“Ah, nothing,” Ingrid tucks her face into her shoulder. 

“Nothing?” Annette grins, scooting her stool forwards, closer to Ingrid. 

“I…” Ingrid covers her face with her good hand, unable to stop a blush from tinting her cheeks. “I was...can I kiss you?”

Annette smiles softly and stands up, resting her hands on Ingrid’s shoulders and bending down to place a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips. “Like that?”

“Y-yeah,” Ingrid says, cheeks burning. She sits up straighter, tilting her head up to kiss Annette back, tugging at her lips. She can feel Annette’s mouth curve into a smile against her lips. 

“Okay,” Annette says, gently pushing Ingrid’s shoulders back. “You need to rest.” 

“Aw,” Ingrid says, pulling back from Annette’s mouth just long enough to protest before kissing her again. Her lips, the corner of her mouth, the curve of her jaw. 

“Come on,” Annette says, gently pushing Ingrid again. Ingrid gives way, this time, falling onto her back, splaying out on the bed in front of Annette. Her cheeks flushed, her lips still tingling with the taste of Annette. 

“Oh, my,” Ingrid grins. “How forward.”

“You,” Annette scowls playfully, swatting Ingrid’s knee gentle even as she climbs onto the bed and straddles Ingrid, tipping her head down in a cascade of orange hair to kiss Ingrid again.

“We shouldn’t,” Annette says when she breaks for air. “Rest.”

“No,” Ingrid shakes her head. “I’m okay. Really.”

“But your arm…” Annette shakes her head and knits her hands into Ingrid’s hair, grabbing fistfuls of gold as she kisses her jaw. “Ugh, we shouldn’t,” she says, her words breathy. 

“I told you,” Ingrid exhales, her chest heaving as she leans up and grasps Annette’s hair. “I’m fine. But I could be...b-better.” 

“Ingrid…” Annette says, and what she had meant to come out as a scold instead leaks out a moan. She presses her body against Ingrid’s. “Oh, Ingrid…”

“Anne,” Ingrid breathes into her mouth. “Annette…you’re-”

Annette nods, sitting up and climbing off of Ingrid. 

“Ah, ah,” Ingrid winces, pushing herself up on one elbow. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” Annette blushes, laying beside Ingrid and kissing her again. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t sound sorry,” Ingrid tilts forwards to kiss her again. 

“Can’t be,” Annette agrees. “Too busy.” Her lips brush Ingrid’s lips and she parts them slightly, just enough to breathe in the warmth of Ingrid, to melt under her lips. Her tongue cautiously, exploratively brushes Ingrid’s lip bottom lip.

Ingrid opens her mouth wider, reaching her arm to grasp the back of Annette’s head and pull her closer, pressing their bodies flush against one another. She turns the tables on Annette, gently rolling her over and kneeling over her, straddling her midsection. 

“Ingrid…” Annette’s face is flushed and her chest heaves. Her hair tangles around her head, splayed out in a fiery halo. 

She reaches her hands up, gently, slipping her fingers under the hem of Ingrid’s shirt, lightly brushing her fingers along the tense, lean abdominal muscles. 

“Is this okay?” Annette asks quietly, gently grasping Ingrid’s midsection.

Ingrid nods and tilts down, her unkempt hair tumbling around her head as she kisses Annette again, sliding her lips down to her jaw, her neck, the hem of her dress. Ingrid slides back, Annette’s hands slipping out from beneath her shirt as Ingrid kneels between Annette’s legs and gently plays with the hem of her dress. 

“Is this okay?” Ingrid asks, mirroring Annette’s question. Annette nods, blushing furiously and tilting her head to the side, staring at Ingrid’s headboard. Staring at the little carved horse figurines lining her desk. Anything but Ingrid, kneeling between her legs, pushing her dress up, inch by inch. 

Her white leggings terminate at garters, and suddenly her skin is bared, the pale, freckled white of her flushed thighs cool against the night air. 

Ingrid grins and kisses the top of her leggings, pressing her lips to the soft, tender skin.

Annette gasps and squirms, but Ingrid holds her fast, one arm keeping her leg pinned as Ingrid makes her way upwards, brushing her lips along the inside of Annette’s thigh, pressing her lips against the cool, damp silk of her underwear. 

Annette moans and presses a fist to her mouth to stifle herself. “I-Ingrid,” she gasps, writhing against Ingrid’s body. 

Ingrid sits up and frowns, eyebrows creased.

“Is something wrong?” Annette sits up, chest heaving. 

“Yeah, I, uh…” Ingrid lifts her bandaged arm. “A little help, maybe?”

Annette bursts into a fit of giggles and pulls back. “Oh, of course.”

Ingrid blushes and stares at the bedspread as Annette slides off the covers and stands before the bed, reaching up to unclasp the neck of her dress. Annette pauses, hesitating.

“You...you don’t have to,” Ingrid says, sitting up and reaching out to tug Annette into a gentle embrace.

“N-no, I...I want to,” Annette says quietly. Her loose dress slips down her shoulders, revealing bare, pale skin dusted with freckles. “I’m just...not used to this stuff.”

“Me neither,” Ingrid admits, kissing her shoulder and helping her unfasten the ties on the back of her dress. It falls free and pools in a pile of warm cloth on the floor, and Annette stands half-naked, tense, and blushing before Ingrid’s hungry eyes. Her back is to Ingrid, leaving Ingrid to stare at her shoulders, the muscles of her back, her dimples, her silk underwear hugging her curves. 

“Sorry,” Annette says quietly. 

“You’re beautiful,” Ingrid says, reaching out and spinning her into a kiss. She gently lays Annette down in bed, unable to stop her eyes from drinking every inch of Annette in - her white leggings, pinned by her garters, her silk underwear, the lace of her bra, the pale, soft skin. Ingrid kneels and presses her lips to Annette’s stomach, prompting another squirm and giggle from Annette. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Ingrid says again. 

Annette blushes and leans back against the headboard, spreading her legs and inviting Ingrid to come closer. 

Ingrid obliges, nestling in the space between Annette’s legs, the space where she fits perfectly as Annette wraps her legs tighter around her. 

Annette moans as Ingrid’s lithe fingers slip under the hem of her panties, her touch snaking along the wiry hair beneath. 

“Is this okay?” Ingrid asks breathily, her lips so agonizingly close to Annette’s ears that sparks of anticipation sizzle along her back. 

Annette swallows and nods.

Ingrid’s touch makes her gasp, and she presses her lips to Ingrid’s shoulder to keep herself quiet as Ingrid’s fingers slip inside her. She’s warm and wet, and gently rocks against Ingrid’s fingers, trying to match against her rhythm. 

“Ah,” she lets out another gasp, and she grasps Ingrid’s face and kisses her. “I-Ingrid, I’m-”

“Already?” Ingrid breathes, pressing her lips to Annette’s and slipping her tongue into her mouth.

Annette’s whimpering response is muted by Ingrid’s tongue so she settles for nodding, desperately, frantically. 

“Should I s-stop?” 

A head shake.

Ingrid pulls back, away from Annette’s mouth, and trails kisses down her neck, between her breasts, down her stomach before pausing to look up. “This okay?”

A nod.

Ingrid slips her fingers out of Annette and hooks them against the hem of Annette’s panties, sliding them down. 

“Legs up,” Ingrid requests politely, pushing Annette’s legs up enough that she can slip the panties down and off, leaving them in a damp pile by the side of the bed. 

Ingrid kneels again, gently pressing her lips to Annette’s stomach, and then lower, lips brushing her hips before closing around Annette’s clit. 

Annette whimpers, writhing as she grinds herself against Ingrid’s mouth, aching for pressure, for friction. She gasps audible when Ingrid’s tongue pushes inside her, lapping at her wet folds. 

“Oh, Ingrid…” Annette moans, grabbing fistfuls of Ingrid’s hair and pulling.

“Ah,” Ingrid pulls back. “Ow, ow. Careful, Anne...Annette.” 

“S-Sorry!” Annette blushes, her hands sliding back. 

“It’s okay,” Ingrid grins, her face spit-slick and sticky. She kisses between Annette’s legs again, picking up her work where she had left off. 

Annette’s giggle melts into a groan and she reaches her arms out, grasping fistfuls of blanket. “Oh, goddess, Ingrid…” She wraps her legs around Ingrid’s head, keeping her pinned. 

Ingrid reaches one hand up, slipping a finger inside Annette as she presses her tongue to her clit. 

“Oh, g-goddess,” Annette moans again, squirming. “P-please, Ingrid...oh, Ingrid-”

Ingrid’s finger works faster, sliding in deeper, her motion matching the rhythm of Annette’s moans, her intensity building to a crescendo in time with Annette’s voice. 

“Don’t s-stop-” Annette grinds herself against Ingrid’s mouth. “I...Ingrid, I-”

She tightens her legs around Ingrid’s head and her muscles tense as she comes, pleasure crashing over her and fire coursing through her veins. She muffles a cry as the last spasms of pleasure pulse from her quivering body. Finally spent, she collapses back on the bed, her legs relaxing. 

Ingrid pushes herself up on her good arm, wiping her face with the other.

“Ingrid…” Annette says quietly, one arm covering her face. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m going to have to change those bandages again.”

Ingrid stares at her bandaged arm and sighs. “Worth it, though?”

“Yeah,” Annette says wearily. She closes her eyes. “I’ll change them in the morning.”

Ingrid laughs and curls up next to Annette, resting her arm on Annette’s midsection and kissing her cheek. 

“You’re sticky.” 

“Your fault.” 

“Mm, fair,” Annette relents, curling into Ingrid and wrapping her arms around her. 


End file.
